Do you (yes, I’m talking to you real life avatar controllers or, to use a certain Lauren Weyland’s phrase, ‘handlers’) ever set your avatars down on a set of poseballs and wander off into a voice chat or IM and forget all about them? You’re so caught up communicating with your partner’s handler that you forget about your pixels. And your partner’s pixels? Well, ladies and gentlemen, our avatars have had enough, as the following letter explains.
Dear Handler,
I write on behalf of all avatars concerning a very grave issue. It’s rather sensitive and, some might argue, difficult to bring up. Perhaps that is why, since voice came into Second Life™ (at which point the issue worsened dramatically) the issue has yet to be publicly brought to your attention.
I don’t know how to put this eloquently or elegantly for that matter and so I shall save of us all the embarrassment of trying by simply being blunt. You know when you get a bit frisky with your partner? Yes, you do. Stop denying it. And you and your partner both lay your pixels down on some poseballs somewhere and then wander off and get caught up in one another’s voices or dirty IMs? Yes, you still following me? And then you come back an hour, sometimes 2 hours later feeling somewhat gratified and rather smug and you force us to jump up and then dress us like bloody ragdolls? Right? You know what I mean, don’t you? WELL IT HAS TO STOP!
Stop being such selfish bastards. Seriously. What kind of inhumane person leaves somebody cycling in a bloody dismal animation for an hour and a half while they go off and gratify themselves? Really, it’s thoughtless. The first five minutes are ok. The first ten minutes are usually tolerable. But when, after twenty minutes, the position has not changed and nobody has touched my tinker (Xcite! tells me when you’re touching, you know) I know you are not watching. And yes, you partner’s pixels know that they’re not being watched either. And so we must remain, on your bloody demand, cycled in this stupid animation with no audience until you damn well feel like coming in and picking us up. There are four major issues with this. Allow me to clarify.
1. Many animations in which you leave us (particularly newer handlers) are all badly positioned and rather dismal. As such, the situation is made even more dire. There is absolutely no redeeming element of a situation in which a female avatar is forced to lie splayed out across a mattress while a male avatar repeatedly thrusts his whatsit into her hip.It is not entertaining. Not one iota.
2. The effect on our expensive genitals is terrible. I tell you something, it’s a good job you can buy skins for Xcite! parts because, with all the repeat into-hip friction thrusting, they need reskinning rather regularly. And I will have you know that is NOT a pleasant procedure to undergo.
3. The facial animations are embarrassing. Like really embarrassing. Male avatar looks like he is about to engage upon a mass killing spree on a bot farm with some form of unholy bazooka and the female avatar looks absolutely terrified and also somewhat confused at the same time, oh and a little bit like she just died as well. Facial animations on any level are NOT good. They ruin our pixel moment.
4. When you eventually do come back (gratified and happy and oozing disgusting afterglow germs) you insist upon absolutely humiliating us poor pixels by TAKING BLOODY SNAPSHOTS! If you had been stuck with your mouth so wide open that your jaw was numb and repeatedly bashing your thingie into some bony hip for an hour and a half, if your tackle consequently felt like it was on fire and possibly even suffering some serious long term nerve ending damage and you were dripping in pixel sweat (oh no wait, that you’re stupid bloody BODY OIL), what would you do? Would you ask someone to take a photograph so that you can look back and happily remember the memory of feeling so completely exhausted, unfomfortable and in pain and smile sweetly about it? PROBABLY NOT. SO STOP BEING SO BLOODY INSENSITIVE!
I'm really sorry about this, love. They'll be back soon I'm sure. Do you have the time on you? Maybe I can sing you a song? Please, I will do anything if you will stop making that face!"
And aside from the intense feelings of discomfort and humiliation, even if the position is a good one and the facial animations are switched off, it’s kind of boring being stuck in a position that is going to go nowhere. Like literally nowhere. You start out with good intentions. Kisses. Cuddles. Maybe moving on to a little touching. But by the time we get into the x rated stuff you are gone. It’s too late. You’re lost in handler happiness. As such, we sit there in the first animation knowing you’re not watching, this pose isn’t going to go anywhere and eventually the friction kicks in. No amount of tacky newbie style frikkin body oil stops friction after an hour and a half of bump bump bump. Believe me.
And when you do come back, you take your frikkin momento pictures, get up and get dressed. And do you even reward us for our pet like patience? Do you bollocks. WE, the patient pixels, do we get any sexual gratification? No. And really, come on, how hard is it to click a dick a few times? You’re just selfish. All of you. Completely selfish. I thought my handler was different, you know. I thought he cared about my sexual gratification. Thought that I mattered to him. But you know what, all he wants is to do is take take take. He sees to his own satisfaction and then leaves me in limbo. He’s just the same as all the rest.
Anyway, I don’t want to make this about me personally. I don’t want it to turn into a therapy rant into which I outlay all the sexual problems I have now. So I will end it here.
But on behalf of avatars everywhere, I beg you to please stop putting us through this. If you want us to perform sexual shows for you, at least have the decency to treat us humanely.
Regards,
Avatar.
The "omg I think I'm upset but not I'm not I'm angry or maybe I'm just confused or perhaps even a little bit stupid omg I can't make up my mind just how I feel," look - not a good sex look.
